“You better not take my mama!” Timmy said, not out of fear, but defiance.
Fargo chuckled. “He’s a feisty little shit, ain’t he? Get the hell out of the way, boy,” he said, shoving Timmy down. “Come here, you! You’re goin’ with us.” Fargo grabbed Jane.
“No!” Cloud Dancer said quickly, stepping toward the men. “Let her go! Take me instead.”
Fargo looked at Cloud Dancer for a moment. “You serious? You’re volunteerin’ to go in her place?”
“Yes.”
Fargo shoved Jane back roughly. “All right,” he said, pointing at Cloud Dancer. “As far as I’m concerned, one of you’s as good as the other. Come on.”
“Son of a bitch! Look at her, Fargo, that’s a Indian woman!” Casey said.
“So she is,” Fargo said.
“Well, what kind of a hostage is a Indian goin’ to make? I mean, there ain’t goin’ to be anybody who gives a shit what happens to her,” Casey said.
“We’ll take her,” Fargo insisted. “Let’s go.”
“Where at is the girl goin’ to ride? We didn’t bring a spare horse,” Monroe asked.
“She can ride with me,” Ponci said. He rubbed himself pointedly. “Oh, yeah. She can sit right in front of me.” He walked over to Cloud Dancer and grabbed her by the arm. “Come on, girlie. You are goin’ to like ridin’ with ole Ponci.”
“Dagen, get the horses,” Fargo said.
As Dagen went to get the horses, Fargo climbed up to the front of the stage and reached down under the seat. He pulled out a Winchester rifle, then turned and smiled down at the driver.
“This here what you were goin’ after while ago?” he asked.
With the Winchester in hand, he jumped back down, then picked up the shotgun that was leaning against the front wheel. By that time, Dagen had returned with the horses.
“You boys get mounted now,” Fargo said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Get up there, girlie,” Ponci said, patting the saddle. “Course, you bein’ Indian ’n all, you prob’ly ain’t never rode in no saddle before.”
“Wait a minute, Ponci. Better let me hold the reins once she’s mounted, else she might try’n run off,” Casey said.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Ponci said. He handed the reins over to Casey, then looked back at Cloud Dancer, who, having made no effort to mount, was still standing there.
“I told you to get mounted, girlie,” he said, growling at her.
“I can’t ride straddle with this dress,” Cloud Dancer said.
“Well, hell, if that’s all it is, I can take care of that,” Ponci said, giggling. Pulling his knife, he cut a slice down through the front of her dress and petticoat, then did the same thing to the rear.
“Now you can ride,” he said. “Get up there.”
Cloud Dancer put her foot in the stirrup, then swung easily, gracefully, onto the back of the horse. The slit in her dress allowed it to fall to either side of the horse.
“Scoot up to the front,” Ponci said, reaching up to grab the saddle horn. He swung into the saddle behind her. “Oh, yeah,” he said when he was in the saddle. “This’ll do fine. Yes, sir, this’ll do just real fine.”
“Let’s go,” Fargo said when all were mounted.
As the riders started away, Cloud Dancer glanced back toward Jane. Jane saw the look of fear in the young Indian woman’s eyes, and she felt guilty that she had allowed Cloud Dancer to take her place. But she also knew that she had a son to look out for and, involuntarily, she put her arm around Timmy and pulled him to her.
After just a few feet, the horses broke into a gallop and started down the other side of the pass. Within moments, they were out of sight.
“That there is about the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Gentry said.
“Yes, it was,” Jane said in a quiet, plaintive voice.
Realizing that she might be feeling guilty, Gentry looked at her.
“Miz Stockdale, don’t you go be holdin’ on to no guilt feelin’s or nothin’,” Gentry said. “She done what was right, and you done what was right.”
“I know,” Jane said. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”
Gentry glared at Johnson. “And you, you lily-livered son of a bitch. You had to go ’n tell them about the pouch, didn’t you?”
“I had no choice, I had to tell them. They would have killed me if I hadn’t told them,” Johnson said. He pointed at Gentry. “And you. You’re supposed to look after your passengers, but you would have let them do it, wouldn’t you?”
“We’ll never know now, will we?” Gentry said. “’Tell you what, if you’re all that easy to bluff, why, I’d sure love to get you in a poker game.”
“You weren’t bluffing. You were serious. You would’ve let him shoot me,” Johnson insisted, pouting his displeasure.
“Yeah, well, maybe I would have and maybe I wouldn’t. But there ain’t no sense in arguin’ over it now. Help me get these two bodies up on top of the coach so we can get ’em into town.”
“Why don’t we just leave them here, and send someone back for them?” Johnson suggested.
“Send who back?” Gentry asked. “I would be the one who came back for them. We’re not going to leave them out here. Now are you going to help me, or do I have to do it myself ?”
“How are we going to get these two bodies all the way on top?”
“I’ll climb up onto the seat and you get them up this far. I’ll put ’em on top.”
“Are we going back to Pajarito?” Jane asked.
Timmy walked back to have a closer look at Falcon MacCallister, who was lying facedown by the rear wheel of the stage.
“Timmy, get back here,” Jane said.
“No, we’re closer to Oro Blanco now. I figure we may as well go on through,” the driver said, answering Jane’s earlier question.
“Hey,” Timmy said. “Mama, come look! Mr. MacCallister ain’t dead!”
“Isn’t,” his mother corrected automatically.
“He isn’t dead,” Timmy said.
Falcon groaned once, then got up on his hands and knees. He stayed that way for a moment, then stood the rest of the way up. Doing so made him dizzy, however, and he fell back toward the coach, and Jane, who had come over at Timmy’s bidding, had to reach out to steady him or he would have fallen down.
“Whoa, take it easy,” she said solicitously.
“Thanks,” he said, taking her hand for stability.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I guess so. What happened?” Falcon asked, confused by what he was seeing and hearing.
“You’ve been shot.”
“Shot?”
Falcon put his hand to his head and felt a ridge running from front to back, just above his right ear. When he pulled his hand back, he saw blood on the tips of his fingers.
He looked at the blood for a second; then he saw the shotgun guard lying belly-down in the dirt.
“I see that I wasn’t the only one,” he said. “Road agents?”
Gentry nodded his head. “We was robbed,” he said. “When we stopped to rest the horses, they was hidin’ behind them rocks over there, and they opened up on us. They kilt Kerry right off the bat, and we thought they kilt you. They shot you in the head.”
Falcon chuckled. “Yeah, well, that’s where they made their mistake. Folks always did say I was hardheaded.” He looked around. “Where’s Yaakos Gan?”
“Who?” Gentry asked.
“That’s the Indian girl’s real name,” Timmy said. “Yaakos Gan.”
“Oh. They took her with them,” Gentry said.
“They took her? Why?”
“They were going to take me,” Jane said. “But that dear, sweet girl volunteered to go in my place. So they took her.”
“That still doesn’t explain why they took her,” MacCallister said.
“Fargo Ford said somethin’ about usin’ her as a hostage,” Gentry suggested.
“Fargo Ford? Wait a minute, isn’t he the one that tried to rob the express office back in Calabasas?”
“That’s him, all right.”
“How did he get out here? I thought he and his men were in jail.”